and she and she is out at sea

she's out at sea again...
since she's left i've ended every day realizing i've slipped something on or into my pocket that was hers or has been hers... you know how best friends do these things. there's borrowed things and traded things and things that are pocketed or swept up or drunkenly exchanged. more absentmindedly than intentionally, i've been carrying something of hers around with me. it's silly. it's sweet. it's something.

(it happens sometimes when my sister leaves, too.)

this is one of my favorite shirts i've swapped with her, and everyone always comments on the hole in the back. i've no idea how it got there but i've no intention of sewing it up... i love it the way it is (not unlike how i love her unconditionally). i usually hear "well, you should sew it up, otherwise it doesn't look nice."
nice for whom? it looks damn near perfect to me in its imperfect state: perfectly worn in, nice color, good neckline, not too tight, much nicer than a stiff, starched, ballet pink, skin-tight scoop-necked something or other.
i don't know.
i guess i just think a hole in a shirt is the least of my worries at this point.
besides.
i love the shirt the way it came to me: from my best friend.

the end of the year is approaching.
more later i suppose...
<3

over and over again

he used to play this one cd some girl gave him.

he used to play it on long car rides, usually home, sometimes to twin peaks, but always on long car rides. there was one song he played over and over and over again on repeat, and i always thought it was one of the saddest songs i'd ever heard... one of those ones that made your heart quiver a little. i think i asked once who it was by, but he never knew.

i came across it today on my computer though.

i haven't been writing, just painting and playing the guitar a whole damn lot.

i've had the biggest writer's block.

but i came across the song on my computer, i'd lifted it off a friend's computer two years ago when we were all crashing in my apartment when i used to live in the big, emerald city. i'd fallen in love with the way the music sounded like it was raining, like it's always raining in seattle.

i miss the seattle days more.

the irony is in the title of the song: "enjoy your worries, you may never have them again" by the books off their album "thought for food".

enjoy: